The Second Time
by lillianempire
Summary: The second time they make love. Follow-up to "One Lonely Night." First person, stream-of-consciousness narrative. First from his perspective, then from hers. Rated M for sexual content.


Mulder

I don't know if this is going to be like last time. It seems like she wants to go.

Is this how she felt the other night? Not wanting me to leave? Are we ever going to talk about this?

She opens the door and stands there, out in the hallway. I get Déjà vu for a second. We've stood here like this before. What were we doing? Then I remember I was getting ready to kiss her, but she was stung by that bee, and I went through Hell to get her back. I hope there are no bees on her right now. Does she even remember that?

When other people are watching, when we are out in public, we are good at hiding it. No one would know what has transpired between us. But here, alone, we can't hide it. We are uncovered.

Does she think I'm going to take her over to my couch? I have a bed now. She knows I have a bed, right?

She's hesitating, looking up at me. I don't want to be the one to start it. I'm worried she will stop me. I know that I won't stop her. I look in her eyes to find what she wants. I look in her eyes to see if she's hesitating because she isn't sure she wants to be with me again.

She kisses me. Like kissing me goodnight. It's soft, simple. But I put my arms around her to keep her there. She lets me. She melts into me.

Fire. That's what I feel. Flames inside me.

We go back in, and I shut the door. I kiss her again.

Over and over, I kiss her.

I open my mouth for her tongue. Oh God, how that feels…it's unlike any kiss I've ever had. Electric. A current that runs between us, lighting us up, a surge.

She returns each kiss with the same urgency.

This is happening. Again.

I pick her up and carry her into my bedroom. She looks around as I set her down, the waterbed waving underneath her. She knows I have a bed, right? Didn't she know?

I get on my knees in front of her. I brush a lock of hair from her face. I wonder if we are ever going to talk about this. I wonder if she feels the same way that I do.

She takes my face in her hands and kisses me deeply. I feel it where the flames are. I feel it everywhere. She's taking off my shirt. I take off hers. It's not as awkward as last time. I blink and we're naked again. And there she is: the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I run my hands over each curve, I don't want to leave a single part of her untouched.

Her skin. Her porcelain skin, warming under my fingers. Oh God…why did we wait so long? Because it's going to change us. We are changed now. The veil has been pierced.

She's looking at me, into my eyes. Blue. Crystal blue. A Caribbean tide. A split of sky and ocean. I get lost in them. She's tracing the outline of my lips with her thumb. It pauses there. I open my mouth and take it in. Her breath catches and she makes a sound, a moan.

This is happening. Again.

I lay her down. Her back arcs, craving my touch, offering herself to me. I push her legs apart with my knees.

Oh my God. To be inside her like this. I don't want to break the eye contact. I don't want to look away.

Warm, wet yielding flesh. This is what she feels like. I know what she feels like now. I know what she tastes like. It's in my head, and I can't get it out. It's attacking all my senses, and I can't get it out.

I pin her hands over her head, entering her has deep as I can. I pause there for a minute to take it all in. Everything I am feeling, I want to take it all in. She doesn't look away. She wants this as much as me. She looks at me, right in my eyes, as I begin to move inside her.

I listen to the sounds she makes as I make love to her. I taste her skin. I taste her lips; her breath. How can I love anyone else? I want my love to sink into her. I want my love to penetrate her, fill her, and burn inside her as it burns inside me.

I feel her hands all over me. On my back. My chest. My face. Squeezing my shoulders. I feel her open for me, the wetness surrounds me. Flowing. Soaking. Oh God…what she does to me…flames inside me.

This is why we waited so long. It's good that we have waited so long. It's better this way, knowing her and loving her. Maybe it's good we have waited.

How can I love anyone else?

Dana. I say this to her. I say: Dana, I love you.

She's pushing me. She pushes me so I'm on my back, and she's on top of me. Oh my God. The way she moves against me. She grabs my hands, and puts them upon her. She wants my touch. She tells me that she loves me, too.

I needed that. I didn't know until right then how much I needed to hear that.

I sit up and hold her. I want that. I want to feel her against me. I pull her down. I pull her down so I can have more of her. I need more. I kiss her neck. I kiss her breasts. My tongue and lips explore every inch. I don't want to leave a single part of her untouched.

We are sweating now. It glistens off her skin. I taste it on her neck. I feel it beading on her back. My bed is waving underneath us, it adds something to our rhythm. This is what making love is. This what it's supposed to feel like; this is what it feels like to love someone so much you feel like you will explode from it.

I can tell by the sounds she is making that she's close. I want to feel it so much. Because it means she trusts me. It means she loves me.

It grips me. Her climax, it grips me. It weakens me, and I climax, too. A wave comes out of me. A wave crashes into her, spilling over her, foaming tide. I don't want it to recede. Can we hold it there? Can we hold on to it before it's gone?

We stay like that, my forehead against hers as our breathing slows. She strokes my face, kissing me softly. I look at her, and she smiles at me. It's tender; it's loving. She loves me. I kiss her again.

I lay down with her. I hold her close to me. I can feel her heart pounding against me. I put my hand there to feel it. Does she feel like it will make her explode, too?

So. This is a beginning. We are changed. But I don't want to go back. I don't want to forget this happened. I want it to happen again. I want this to become part of us. But I'll have to wait and see. I'll have to wait and see if she wants this, too.

I'll just wait for it.

Wait.

* * *

Scully

I should go.

Why did I come over here anyway? Because I can. Because he will always open his door and let me in. No matter what time it is. No matter what I want, he's going to open his door and let me in.

But I should go.

He follows me out into the hallway. This is familiar. We've been out here like this before. What were we doing? Then I remember: I came to tell him that she'd died, and maybe I was wrong about her. Then he called me his Touchstone, his Constant, and the relief I felt; the happiness I felt to know that. I was afraid I would lose him. I needed to hear that. Why did I just leave though? I should have stayed.

I look up at him wondering if he's remembering that, too. He's watching me. I can't tell if he wants me to stay. We haven't talked about it, and I don't know if I want to. Shouldn't we, though? Sometimes we don't talk about things. We leave them where they were, and we don't acknowledge them again.

I decide to kiss him goodbye. Just a small kiss, but his arms are around me as soon as my lips touch his. I feel something from him, something electric. He's telling me yes.

We go back inside, he shuts the door and he kisses me again and again. Why is it with each kiss I want another one deeper than the last? Why is it that each one feels as if it's not enough? I guess this is what happens when you're in love. You need them. You crave them.

He picks me up. It surprises me. He takes me into his bedroom. The last time I was in here was when he was not himself. Switched. I don't want to think about that, though. He kneels in front of me, stroking my hair from my face. I pull his face to mine to kiss him again. I love how it feels. It's perfect.

Still time to stop this, I think. There's still time for me to break this kiss and leave before we're dragged under again. Because this is going to happen. Again.

But I don't want to do that. I want him. I want to be dragged under time and time again. Pieces of the last time are flashing in my mind. I begin to remove his clothes and he removes mine. We've done this before; we know how to do this now. It's fluid; quick.

He's looking into my eyes, intensely. I stare back into his. There's only him. I know at this exact moment that for the rest of my life, there will only be him. How can I love anyone else? Because I do. I love him so much. Can he tell? Does he sense it? Is that why he's looking at me this way?

I stroke his lips with my thumb, anticipating what is going to happen. Again. There will be a third time. A fourth. A tenth. One hundred. We won't be able to stop. Then he opens his mouth and takes in my thumb. I didn't expect that, and I forget to breathe for a second.

He lays me back, and I open for him. I am his. He can have me. He can have all of me. I feel him penetrate me, and I am determined not to look away. I want to watch his face. Oh my God…the way he feels…I already know, but this is better. This time it's different. He holds down my hands, stretching me, flattening me beneath him, as he enters me. All the way. He fills me completely.

We are making love. This is how it's supposed to feel. We are making love. I let that echo in my head. That's what we are doing, and there will never be anyone else but him. Love his here. Love his here between us right now. It's better when you are in love. We know each other, and what is here between us right now is better for that.

I wrap my legs around him, push him down. I want more. He whispers my name. His voice is breathy with passion. He calls me Dana, and it warms me to hear that. Loving and intimate. Then he whispers that he loves me. He says: Dana, I love you.

I want to be on top of him. I don't know why. I push him onto his back, and I guide his hands over me. Touch me. Please just touch me. I say to him that I love him, too. There's relief in his eyes. But didn't he know that already? Can't he feel it?

He sits up so he can pull me down while he thrusts up into me. I can't be quiet anymore. Our hands and lips are all over each other, and I'm starting to sweat from this. The heat between us, it prickles on my skin, it drips down my back. Oh my God.

We are making love. Everything disappears except me and him. Let it fade out; let it dissolve into nothing. There is nothing but me and him.

It builds up inside me quicker this time, sharper, the edges collide where we are joined. Joined in love, joined in truth.

I can let go now. He loses control of himself. It's happening to him, too. I feel it. He fills me up, and I feel all of it. We give and we take.

I rest my forehead against his, still breathless, still feeling the echoes of my release between my legs. He stays there. He stays inside me. We look at each other finally, and I smile at him. I want him to know that I have no regrets, no doubts, no wish to change this.

He kisses me as we lay down beside each other. I want to stay here in his arms, but not just for tonight. What if we just lay here like this and didn't do anything else? What if we never left his bed?

We are changed. Forever, we are changed. But how much has it changed us? Will it bleed into other aspects of our lives, staining it, clouding our judgement? I don't know. But I don't have to think about that right now. I'll just have to wait and see.

I'll just wait for it.

Wait.


End file.
